


Good Sort

by scifigeek14



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Gen, Season/Series 05, just hints at the ship, nothing outside canon, post episode Passenger, post season 5 episode 3, so i feel comfortable tagging this as gen, thursday's pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 04:04:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15234921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scifigeek14/pseuds/scifigeek14
Summary: Thursday over hears a conversation between Joan and Morse.





	Good Sort

Thursday didn’t hear Morse come in. He could never hear much over the sound of the blasted taps these days. He wasn’t sure if the water had gotten louder as the pipes aged or if his hearing had gotten worse as he did. Whatever the reason, he hadn’t known that Morse was there until he reached the top of the stair and heard him talking with Joan, who was visiting with the excuse of returning a hair pin to her mother but was most likely really there for the free breakfast.

“It’s amazing what people will do for money,” Joan said in response to something Morse had said before Thursday had gotten in listening range. “Her own sister.” _Ah, he had been telling her about the recently wrapped up case,_ Thursday thought to himself, wondering if he should interrupt.

“That’s the way of the world, I’m afraid,” Morse answered wryly. Thursday could picture his face even without seeing it.

“Should you really be telling me the details of this case?” Joan asked.

“Nothing that won’t be posted in the paper come Monday morning,” More dismissed. “And besides, I’m sure that you used to get all sorts of stories when you were still living here, Miss Thursday.”

Joan sighed, “Morse, I do wish you would call me Joan. After all, I’ve known you since you were a constable.” Her voice was light and teasing. The way she spoke sometimes reminded Thursday of her mother when she was her age.

“That was only a few years ago!” Morse huffed on a laugh.  

“Yes, but it’s not my fault you are rising through the ranks so quickly, Morse. You’ll be super intendent before we can blink, and how will I prove to everyone that I knew you back when you were an upstart if you call me Miss Thursday like a complete stranger?”

“A desk job?” Morse asked incredulously. Joan laughed.

“Oh, I know, you’d hate it.”

“See, you do know me, Miss Thursday.” His voice sounded fond, warm like a glass of honeyed bourbon in sunlight. It was a tone that Morse usually reserved for talking about his favorite composers and quoting philosophy, and it puzzled Thursday to hear it in this context.

“You’ll never change, will you, Morse?” Joan sounded fond too. Suddenly Thursday wondered if he had missed something very big that was happening right under his nose.

“I suppose not.”

“Good.” That seemed to be an end to their conversation. Joan cleared her throat and there was a shuffling sound. “Well, I best be off. Wouldn’t do to be late for work.”

“No, of course not.” Thursday could hear them both moving towards the door, Morse escorting her like a proper gentleman. Thursday backed up around the corner of the upstairs hall and peered around the wall and down the staircase as surreptitiously as possible. Morse was holding the door for her and she was grinning at him with bright red lips. “Have a good day, Miss Thursday.”

“I mean it, Morse. Start calling me Joan, before I’m forced to start calling you by your first name.”

“You do know it is a punishable offense to threaten an officer of the law,” Morse warned, not sounding at all put out. Joan laughed brightly.

“Bye Morse.” She leaned forward and kissed his cheek in a friendly manner, careful not to leave an imprint of her lipstick as she did. Morse watched her to the end of the drive, offering a small wave before closing the door. Thursday chose that moment to descend the stairs.

“I didn’t realize you two were so close,” he said, causing Morse to whip around and twist his neck in a way that made Thursday’s own neck twinge in sympathy.

“Sir?” Morse asked, sounding as wrong-footed as he looked.

“Just, the way you were talking just now: very casual. I didn’t realize you two had gotten so close is all.” He kept his tone friendly and soft as to not imply that he was accusing Morse of anything.

“Well,” Morse hedged, scrunching up his neck and wrinkling his nose as he spoke. He scratched at the back of his head, ruffling his amber curls, “I suppose all those times spent talking and seeing Miss Thursday about the town. I’m not sure about ‘close’ per se, but I was invited to her flat warming party. It’s a nice place.”

“What word would you use then, if not close?”

“Friendly acquaintances? Or associates?” Morse offered, hesitantly, after a pause.

“Friends then?”

“Or something like.”

“Or something more?” Thursday asked, straightening his tie and raising an eyebrow as he spoke.

“Oh, no, no,” Morse assured, “nothing like that. After all, she did just recently try to set me up on a date. So, no need to worry on that front, Sir.” He said it all with a self-deprecating half smile.

“Ah well, shame that.”

“Sir?” Thursday almost let out a chuckle at the look on Morse’s face.

“I just thought…” He sighed. “For a father, no one is good enough for their little girl, but you’re a good sort Morse.” Morse coughed and turned a sort of reddish color.

“Thank you, Sir, kind of you to say. But, I was under the impression that—and I hope you don’t mind my saying so—that Miss Thursday would not consider a romantic attachment with a member of the police force.”

“Ha!” Thursday puffed a sardonic laugh, “Yes. Heaven forbid she end up with someone remotely like her old man.”

“A person could only be so lucky, Sir.” Morse smiled, and it lifted Thursday’s mood causing him to smile in return.

“Now, now, Morse, you flirt,” He teased. “I’ll have you know, I’m happily married to the Missus.”

Morse burst into a sharp bark of laughter, throwing his head back with the force of it. Thursday remembered a time when Morse would have blushed and stammered out apologies and explanations and assurances. Morse had seemed so young when they had first met, more like a college boy than a man. He had aged in these few short years, matured like a glass of wine—or a good malt whiskey, like the color of his ever-growing hair.

“No offense, Sir,” He said after his laughing bout, “but you aren’t quite my type. And, besides, I wouldn’t want on Mrs. Thursday’s bad side.”

“No, best not. She’d stop making my lunches! Can you imagine? She can be real tough when she wants, you know. Runs in the family.” He patted Morse on the arm. “So, you best listen to Joanie before you get on _her_ bad side. You have her old man’s permission if that’s what you’re held up over.”

“Just, doesn’t seem proper,” Morse said as they moved through the door.

“Like I said, you’re a good sort, Morse.”  

**Author's Note:**

> Thursday is protective but, let's face it, ultimately wants what's best for all the people he cares about and he knows morse is a good dude.


End file.
